But You Love Me
by KBear143
Summary: A story that began as a Luz OS... but George just won't let me leave it at that. No one was more surprised than Katie when she became friends with George Luz, but the guy just sucks you in... like a black hole. Before the war is over, she's either going to lose her heart or her sanity. With George, it's hard to tell which.
1. Chapter 1

**THIS STORY IS FOR ARAHADI! IT STARTED OUT AS A ONE-SHOT, BUT GEORGE JUST WOULDN'T LET ME LEAVE IT THAT WAY... SO HERE IS CHAPTER ONE!**

* * *

 ****KATIE POV****

Nobody was more surprised that I was when I developed a friendship with George Luz while training at Toccoa. We were polar opposites.

I was an over-analytical, overly serious perfectionist. My days were spent working myself to exhaustion, and my nights were spent thinking about what I needed to do better tomorrow. Sobel was a jerk, sure, but I was easily my own worst critic. I had to be. I was a woman training to become a U.S. Army paratrooper.

George, on the other hand, was the Easy Company comedian. He was a sarcastic prankster with a gift for impersonations, and he gave you no choice but to like him. Believe me, I tried to resist, even after we became friends. He was just a force of a nature… like gravity… or a black hole. If you got close, he just drew you to him.

That's not to say I was going down without a fight. I did have my pride after all. And so it went. Two years of George driving me right to the edge of insanity, and then making me laugh just before I was ready to kill him.

By December 1944, we were averaging at least one session of snarky sarcasm a day, and at least one threat of bodily harm a week. Between me and the Germans, it was a wonder that George Luz made it through Normandy and Holland.

Every fight ended the same way: an exasperated, clenched fist scream from me as George stood there, arms crossed against his chest, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Then he'd put on his most patronizing tone and pull me, struggling all the way, into a hug, patting my head like a child as I threatened him with all manner of painful torture, and say the same four words.

"But you love me."

I'd usually pinch him to make him let me go, and then walk off in a huff while he laughed behind me. Annoying little pain in the ass.

* * *

"George, I swear to God. I don't care if you've seen this movie 13 times. I promise you that you will not make it through number 14 if you don't shut your damn mouth!"

"Okay, okay! Jeez, Katie. Ya see, Lip? That's the problem with bringing these women in here. Hormones just…"

"Finish that sentence, George Luz. I fucking dare you."

He grinned and leaned forward to say something else, but never got the chance. The lights snapped on and the projector cut off as we were informed that the Germans had overrun the infantry somewhere in the Ardennes Forest of Belgium. We were moving out immediately, set to be surrounded in the forest, in the dead of winter, with no supplies. I met George's eyes again. The familiar grin was gone.

* * *

"I'm… dreaming… of a whiiiittttteee Christmas… HEY!"

George made the mistake of walking by my foxhole in the midst of his dramatic Bing Crosby impersonation, and I rewarded his performance accordingly. Instead of throwing roses onstage, he caught a snowball to the face for his trouble. He brushed the snow off his face and looked down at where I sat, alone in my foxhole.

"What was that for? Where is your Christmas spirit?"

"I've been listening to that Nazi over there singing 'Stille Nacht' for the last five minutes. I can't reach him, so you'll have to do," I answered as best I could through the chattering of my teeth.

After a quick assessment of my shivering, George rolled his eyes and jumped in beside me, making a great production out of getting seated and comfortable and forcing me to move out of his way several times. When he was finally settled, he grinned at my scowling face and patted the ground between his legs.

"There now, that's better. Tiny little thing like you, Bull should have just tucked you into his pocket or something. Come here, little one. Now, tell me, why is it that I'm always having to save your ass? Thought you women were supposed to have hot flashes or something. But I guess you're still a baby. Not old enough for all that yet. Need old George here to take care of you."

"I don't-t-t need you t-t-to s-s-save me, George. I'm p-p-perfectly f-f-fine. You can go now."

Oh, that was convincing.

"Just come here and cuddle up with Uncle Georgey."

"I'd rather freeze. Get out, Luz."

"Fine. Suit yourself, kiddo. Hope you don't get frostbite on your lips. It'd be a shame to have anything happen to freeze that mouth shut."

He was toying with death. He knew I hated being called "kiddo" almost as much as I hated his remarks about my being a female.

"And I hope I don't have to wind up performing an emergency amputation below your belt. Not that it would be a great loss to the world if you couldn't reproduce."

"Ouch. That stings. You know…" I readied another snowball, but he put up his hands in surrender and walked away laughing, "But you love me."

It was the last chance we would have to laugh for a while. Clear skies allowed the Germans to bomb Bastogne that night, destroying the aid station. Although Patton's army broke through the line two days later, it did little to lessen the feeling of isolation. Patton or not, it was still 20 below and raining German shells and splinters.

Then, on New Year's Eve, we took some casualties. We had a man killed, and Joe Toye, my rock and my ally in the never-ending battle to shut George up, was wounded… again. Purple Heart number 3. The look in his eyes as they took him away let me know he would be back sooner rather than later, but I was still pissed. I curled up in my foxhole, swiping angry tears, and fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of shell bursts on a backdrop of white snow and red blood.

When I woke up, it was pitch dark and I felt almost warm. For a second, I thought I might be dead, but when I shifted my body I discovered I was no longer alone. I was resting, rather comfortably I might add, against a firm chest with a pair of strong arms wrapped around me. I moved to see who it was and he spoke.

"I'm not moving, so don't even bother. You're going to freeze to death in here by yourself."

George.

"What happened? You draw the short straw on rescuing the damsel in distress."

"Something like that. Now shut up and go back to sleep."

I smacked him playfully on the chest and he chuckled, but I was too comfortable to move.

"Happy New Year, George."

As I drifted back into a much more peaceful sleep, I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head.

"Happy New Year, beautiful."


	2. Chapter 2

**** KATIE POV ****

 **January 3, 1944**

Hoobler. Dead. Bill and Joe Toye. Wounded. In one day.

I must have looked frightening when George finally found me that afternoon, on my knees by the tree where Bill had propped himself up after those German bastards maimed him and Joe. Sweet, stoic Joe, who had left the aid station and come back to us that morning, was not coming back from this wound. He'd slipped his brass knuckles into my pocket before they took him away.

"Here. You may need these to shut George up once in a while. We'll see you when you get home, kiddo."

Purple Heart number four.

George knelt in front of me, pulling me into his arms and letting me sob for a few minutes.

"Come on. Come back to the foxhole. I don't want you out here if they decide to start up again."

He led me back, ripping a piece of his blanket and using it and some snow to scrub the blood from my hands and face.

"You don't have to baby me, George," I protested, trying to push his hand away from my cheek.

"And you," he answered, tilting my chin up to look at him, "don't have to be so tough all the damn time. I'm not babying you. It won't kill you to let me help."

"It just might," I replied smartly, and he grinned.

"There's my girl. Was worried I'd lost you there for a minute." He was quiet for a second. Then he brushed a frozen tear off my cheek and finished, "They are gonna be okay, sweetheart. Those two are tough as nails."

"Thanks, George."

"Any time… kiddo," he winked.

"Ass. You know, Joe left me his brass knuckles."

"But you love me."

* * *

 **January 9, 1944**

The world was exploding around me again. I could see in flashes of orange that someone had been caught in the open. I realized that it was George just as he fell to the ground in a low crawl toward Skip and Penk's foxhole.

A sickening thud. Another flash and explosion.

I covered my face, and when I looked again Skip and Penkala were gone and George was motionless. Why the hell wasn't he moving? I was out of the foxhole before I could think what I was doing.

"George!"

I was beside him when he finally started crawling again, almost dragging him as we tumbled into a foxhole beside Lipton. He landed on top of me, curling his body around mine to protect me from the ongoing barrage. Another shell hit the edge of our foxhole, but it didn't explode. A dud. We stared at it in stunned silence as the world around us finally fell quiet. Then George, still on top of me, looked down. For the first time that I could remember, he looked truly angry.

"Are you out of your mind? What the fuck were you thinking, running out there like that?"

"You're one to talk! What were you doing out in the fucking open?"

Lipton coughed uncomfortably and stood up.

"Um, I'm gonna go check on everybody."

He scrambled hurriedly out of the foxhole, but George barely missed a beat.

"So what? I was already out in the open! I was trying to get to cover! You were in a hole already and you got out! Who the hell does that besides a dumb kid? You could've been killed!"

My eyes were welling a bit at his tone, but I blinked the tears back as best I could.

"You weren't moving, dammit! I saw Skip & Penk get hit, and then you were just lying there, not fucking moving! What the fuck did you expect me to do? I thought you were wounded! Or dead! I ran out there because I was trying to get to you, you asshole! If that makes me a dumb kid, then fine! Now get the fuck off of me."

He didn't move. He just stared at me, mouth open in shock.

"You… ran out in the open… under fire," he said slowly, as if he tasted the words before he said them, "to save me?"

"Yeah. Why the hell else do you think I'd run out there? Although, now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn't have."

He bit his lip as he tried to hold back a smile, and his eyes lit up with that twinkle that I hated to admit I adored.

"But you love me."

I was suddenly acutely aware of the position we were in, and of George's face inching closer to mine. I couldn't move, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. I knew what was coming, and I drew a deep breath just as his lips brushed mine.

"Man, George, did you hear about Muck and Penka…la… um, sorry," Frank Perconte said, choking back a laugh and shaking his head as he stood over the foxhole. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

"Thanks, Frank. Thanks a lot. And yeah. I heard. I saw 'em."

"Ya know, it's about damn time that you finally told her that you…"

"Okay! I'm going to find some coffee!" George interrupted, scrambling out of the foxhole and giving Frank a shove in the opposite direction. "Want some, kiddo? I'll bring you some. C'mon, Frank. Before I fucking kill you."

As they walked away, my breathing finally returned to normal and I was left to wonder what the hell just happened.


	3. Chapter 3

**** KATIE POV ****

There is really no way to know how many lives Shifty Powers saved with his rifle during World War II, but I do know that he saved mine on the day we took Foy.

The guys were celebrating victory, singing and taking pictures as they rounded up German prisoners. I had been searching the area for those wounded or killed when I heard a shot ring out, and then another. Men began to fall.

Someone yelled, "Sniper! Take cover!"

I began to run for a building where I could see some of the guys huddled, but a bullet kicked up behind me and I stumbled forward into the mud as another hit just to my left. I looked up to my goal, the corner of the building ten feet from me, and it seemed miles away. I could see Lipton and Shifty, searching for the sniper's nest. I could see George's mouth moving, his features exaggerated. He was screaming for me to get up, but I couldn't hear him over my heart pounding in my ears. Then I saw him look up toward a building and his eyes went wide. The sniper was taking aim at me, and I couldn't react fast enough. When George's eyes met mine again, I knew what he was about to do.

"George, no! Don't!"

But he was already running toward me. Another shot. I waited for the pain and when it didn't come, I was afraid that George had been hit. He slid down beside me and dragged me into his arms, both of us searching each other for bullet holes. It was then, hearing the cheer go up, that we realized the last shot had been Shifty's. The sniper was dead.

"Really, George? You bitch at me for running out in the open to get to you, and then you do the same damn thing? And with a sniper aiming at you! Are you crazy?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm crazy! And you're making me that way! Why can't you just stop trying to get yourself killed? Dammit, I've got enough to worry about out here without worrying about losing you!"

We were standing in the middle of the road now, muddy and screaming at each other, oblivious to the guys who were standing around watching us. Even Frank, who had been shot in the ass and was being carried, made Bull stop so that they could listen.

"Do you really think yelling at me is going to help, George? You want me to stay out of danger? Well, newsflash to you, genius! We are in the middle of a fucking war! How exactly the hell do you expect me to stay out of danger?"

"I… Fuck! I don't know! I just hate this!"

"What, George? You hate what? Me being here? 'Cuz I've picked up on that."

"Yes! But not for the reasons you think," he answered, looking at his boots as his voice grew quiet. "You have no idea how hard it is to know that I can't protect you from getting hurt out here when that's all I want to do."

"Yeah, I've got some idea of what that's like."

His eyes snapped up to mine and we stared at each other for long time. He touched my cheek, and the rest of the world actually disappeared around us.

"I can't let anything happen to you, baby girl. I just can't."

The emotion in his voice took me by surprise, and I breathed, "Don't you mean kiddo?"

"No," he answered quietly. "I don't."

His face was serious again. His thumb ran across my mouth as he nervously licked his own lips. I forgot that everyone was watching, and that I was dangerously close to fraternizing with a fellow soldier. I forgot that I was supposed to care. He was leaning toward me. Everything was silent and still.

Then it wasn't.

"Jeez, Luz, it's been two and a half years! Kiss her already!"

George's hand dropped from my face and he turned to send a scathing look in Frank's direction. I shot him one of my own, although I wasn't sure whether it was because he had interrupted us or because I was embarrassed to realize that all of Easy was watching our little display.

"We better get moving," Lipton prodded, and George gave me an apologetic shrug before following him toward one of the buildings.

I was so confused. Was it just the adrenalin and fear, or had I really wanted to kiss him? Obnoxious George, who can't be serious and constantly drives me crazy? The pain in the ass who stole all of my clothes while I was in the shower so that I had to walk back to barracks in nothing but a towel? The mouthy clown who takes pleasure in annoying me at every opportunity? That George?

I thought back over the last two years and all of our fights, and other memories began to invade my mind.

George… The man who traded canteens with me after one of our marches at Toccoa so that Sobel would yell at him instead. The man who gave me extra chocolate rations and massaged my back when the cramps from my evil little monthly visitor made it hard to get comfortable. The man who insisted on carrying all of my gear through Normandy because I hurt my ankle on the jump, and carried me piggy-back through the streets of Eindhoven without complaint, even though he was teasing me for not being able to force my way through the crowd like the men. The man who shielded me from the cold in the Bois Jacques. The man who ran out in front of a sniper to protect me. That George.

I really did want to kiss that George.

Ahead of me, I saw him pop Perco in the back of the head when he passed.

"What? What'd I say?"

"Shut up, Frank. I don't even want to hear you talk right now. You're just lucky you're wounded."


	4. Chapter 4

**** GEORGE POV ****

We took Noville and Rachamps over the next few days, and we finally got to sleep inside for the first time in a month. We were in this little church, with candles lit everywhere as the nuns sang to us. I sat back in the pew and surveyed the room. Our time in the woods had cost us a lot of good men. Some were gone forever, and others just changed for life. In truth, all of us were changed for life. You could see on everyone's faces the toll that this war had taken.

Malarkey's face was worn and tired, his once bright red hair now dull and unkempt. Before Bastogne, he had been full of jokes and life. Then Buck left after seeing Joe and Bill get hit, and his other two best friends, Muck and Penkala, were killed. His eyes were lifeless now.

My buddy Frank lay near me, wounded in the ass, which would have been funny except that I'd never wish him to be in pain. I had a flash of Skip telling a young replacement that getting shot in the ass was an Easy Company tradition, and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. He would have gotten a kick out of Frank's wound, but both he and the wide-eyed replacement were dead now.

My eyes scanned the room again, trying to erase the thought of Skip talking about swimming the Niagara from my mind, and they landed on her. She was in the back row trying, unsuccessfully from what I could tell, to get comfortable. We hadn't talked much since Foy, but the two almost-kisses had been weighing heavy on my mind. I felt something for her. Something beyond friendship. I'd felt it, and been pushing it down, since Toccoa, but I couldn't anymore. Since that night she came after me in the forest, thoughts of her and of us had been worming into the forefront of my mind at every available opportunity. She shifted again, and I stood up and made my way over to her.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just can't get comfortable. Stupid, huh? We're inside for the first time in forever and I can't get comfortable."

I laughed lightly and she smiled up at me. I motioned to the spot next to her and she nodded, so I sat down.

"Come here. Let's see if I can help," I suggested, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her to me. "Better?"

"Yeah, actually," she answered, snuggling into my chest. "Thank you."

"Any time, baby girl."

We were quiet for a while, and I thought she had fallen asleep but then she ran her fingers along the beard that had grown on my face while we were in the Bois Jacques.

"I know. I need a shave."

"It actually doesn't look bad on you. Ruggedly handsome."

"You think so?" I ran my fingers over the coarse hair. "I guess I'd feel better if I was cleaned up. Maybe once the war is over, I'll give it a shot. You can let me know how it looks. After all, gotta look good before you'll agree to marry me."

My heart skipped a beat, waiting to see if she would notice or question me talking about an "us" after the war. I felt her look up at me, and I looked down to meet her eyes.

"Of course. I mean, I can't be seen with you if you wind up looking ridiculous."

I smiled so big that my face hurt, reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. Her fingertips were at the base of my neck, running through the overgrown curls and her lips were so close that I couldn't stand it anymore. My hand slipped behind her head, tangling in her hair, and I pulled her into me. Our lips were dry, but her mouth was soft and fit perfectly against mine. She responded immediately and when my tongue brushed across hers, we both let out a slight moan of satisfaction. We were breathless when we pulled away.

"Finally," I sighed. "How did I manage that without Frank interrupting?"

"All you had to do was put a bullet in his ass and put him on morphine."

We must have laughed loud enough for Frank to hear, because he turned his head and caught my eye, smiling at the sight of her in my lap. I grinned and looked back at her.

"I have to tell you, it's too bad we're in a church right now. Because if weren't…"

She leaned in to whisper conspiratorially in my ear, wiggling her ass against the growing bulge in my trousers, "You don't have to tell me what you're thinking, George. I'm sitting in your lap. I can feel it."

I sucked in a breath, running my hand up her thigh and watching her eyes in the candlelight.

"Baby, do you want my heart to explode? Because that's what is about to happen."

"No, George. I just want you to kiss me."

Well, who was I to argue with that? I pulled her to my lips again, losing myself in the heat of the moment. It felt so right that I almost forgot we were in the middle of a war. We could have been in my car at the drive-in, parked in some secluded spot, or sitting on my living room couch, just enjoying the closeness.

I felt something hit the side of my head and looked down. A small piece of wax lay beside me on the pew, and Frank was staring at me sternly, motioning his head toward where Spiers was sitting. Oh. Right. Fraternizing. Middle of a church. CO just a few feet away. Maybe not the best idea. I glanced at her apologetically, but she just laughed.

"Maybe we can finish this conversation some other time?"

"Oh, you bet your ass we're gonna finish this conversation, sir," she answered matter-of-factly, and I shifted in the seat as my trousers once again grew uncomfortably tight.

She said nothing. Instead, she just smiled at me, her eyes glittering with the promise of something. Then she snuggled into my chest and fell asleep, leaving me alone with my incredibly inappropriate thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

**** KATIE POV ****

 **Hagueneau, France**

We had finally gotten the hell out of the woods, only to be sent back to France on some sort of suicide show-off mission for the brass. We'd arrived in town and been greeted by the annoyingly chipper David Webster, fresh from his long rest at the hospital and the replacement depot. The guy had taken a minor leg wound in Holland four months ago, missing the frozen hell that we had all suffered through in the Bois Jacques.

Now he showed up like an eager puppy, wanting to laugh and joke in his fresh, clean uniform as if he couldn't see that we were all worn beyond patience. He was asking about Hoobler and I gritted my teeth as he nattered on about where he had been for the last four months.

"I'm sure you tried to bust out and help us in Bastogne, Web," I heard Liebgott mutter, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"I don't know how I would've done that."

Joe started rattling off the impressive list of men who had gone AWOL from the hospital despite much more serious wounds than the one Webster had suffered, to get back to Easy. Popeye. Alley. Joe Toye. Guarnere.

"Yeah, where is Guarnere? He still your platoon sergeant?"

"Do you see him anywhere, Webster?"

"No. But I do see you, beautiful. Only person that I know who can make a set of dirty ODs look that damn good." He put a hand on my knee and winked, doing that obnoxious clicking of the teeth that men often do when they think they're being smooth, but actually sound like they are calling a horse.

Don's eyes snapped down from where he was standing, and Joe tensed and leaned up beside me to say something. Between the two of them, I could almost hear the teeth grinding. Luz was in another truck, or things might have gotten very unpleasant. As it was, I put my hand on Joe's leg to still him and turned my attention back to Webster.

"I'm going to ignore, for the moment, that last remark and assume that you were just joking instead of being blatantly disrespectful. Certainly you know Joe and Don well enough not to be disrespectful to me on purpose," I said pointedly, watching as his eyes widened at the two sets of angry eyes he hadn't realized were on him. When he quickly removed his hand and nodded, I continued, "Now then, I'm going to address my original question. Do you see Guarnere? No, you don't. Because he got hit. Blew his leg off. Him and Toye both. And you asked about Hoobler a minute ago? Well, he's dead. Now, I realize that you have no concept of what we have been through for the last month, so I'm going to help you out before you get punched in the mouth by someone with a little less patience than I have. Here is a tip that they apparently didn't give you at the replacement depot. If you don't see someone, you can pretty safely assume that they got hit. Some are wounded. A lot are dead. Ask if you must, but wipe that star-spangled, recruiting poster smile off of your face when you do. You've been in combat. You oughta know better by now."

"You're kind of sexy when you get all pissed off," he grinned self-assuredly. God, he really thought he was something. I could have punched him in the mouth, but Malarkey grabbed my arm and pulled me off the truck.

A shell whistled overhead and he dove for cover like a little kid hiding from a thunderstorm. Malarkey chuckled and made a smart remark in his direction just as George walked up. Webster scrambled to his feet and over to me.

"Sorry. I should have protected the lovely lady first," he said smoothly, winking at me to cover his embarrassment at the overreaction, and I saw George's eyes narrow.

Joe smirked as he passed George, "Oh yeah, Luz. College Boy here has been laying it on thick for Katie here the last few minutes. So damned charming that I could fucking choke."

"Yeah? Well, the lovely lady has all the protection she needs, alright Webster?" George growled possessively, sliding an arm around my waist.

Webster's brow furrowed in confusion for a second then his eyes lit up.

"You know, I never would have figured at the beginning, but I guess it figures that you would win the bet since I wasn't here. Guess I owe you…" he trailed off as it suddenly occurred to him that I was still standing there.

George's eyes were wide now, and Don edged away from me slowly, as if he were expecting me to explode.

"I'm sorry, the what?"

"Oh, you know, um… a while back, I bet him that he couldn't win you over. But I guess it's hard not to love the guy eventually, even when you want to kill him."

I guess if I had been paying attention, I would have felt George tense beside me. I would have noticed him and Don gauging my reaction to see if I believed Webster's story. I probably would have been able to tell that Web was holding his breath as the wheels in his head spun, trying to come up with an explanation for his slip of the tongue. But I was tired, and the story sounded reasonable enough considering the participants, so I let it go.

"Oh. Yeah, well. He's still got some work to do there," I joked, not paying attention to the three audible sighs of relief. "As for you, Webster, wipe that stupid grin off of your face. We're tired. We're hurting. And we've lost a hell of a lot of people. Nobody is in the mood for your well-rested, happy-go-lucky, sunshine-and-roses routine right now."

I stomped off behind Malarkey, missing George delivering Webster a severe tongue-lashing. When he came into our OP later, towing a new lieutenant, Webster's whole attitude had changed. It seemed that there was to be a patrol. They were sending us across the river on boats, under a full moon, on a prisoner snatch. Webster knew who had been chosen so far, and the guys promptly needled it out of him. Babe. McClung. Ramirez. And me. But, on the bright side, our winter shoe packs were in, now that we were inside and warm. And we had showers.

Shell bursts be damned, we made our way outside only to learn that we had lost Bill Keane in the blast. Another man dead. The new arrivals stopped and stared. Those of us who had been through Bastogne took slight notice, grumbled at the waste of life, and kept walking toward the showers.

I stripped down alongside the men, walking under the water in my brassiere and panties. Some of the guys looked, but I could not have cared less. It felt too good to scrub away the blood and grime of the last month. Much like Winters, I'd managed to keep shaven as best I could as a matter of principle- the only shred of my femininity that I could hold onto- but to be clean and shaven was something different entirely. I finally opened my eyes under the shower and saw Joe grinning at me.

"Thanks for the show, darlin'. Best one I've seen in a while."

I winked at him, running my fingers through my wet hair as I stepped from the shower and George appraised me with crossed arms.

"Was that really necessary?" he demanded, motioning to my state of undress. I was surprised at the irritation in his tone, and really not in the mood for it.

"Yeah, actually. How the hell else was I supposed to get clean?"

"You couldn't have waited until the guys were done? Or sectioned off one of the showers?"

"Why should I get a shower all to myself if no one else does? Or have to wait until everyone else is done and all the warm water is gone? What the hell is your problem, George?"

"My problem? Look at you! Out here flaunting your body in front of Joe and all the rest of these guys!"

"Excuse me? Flaunting? Why isn't it just that I'm filthy and exhausted like everyone else? Why does it have to be that I'm flaunting myself? Because I'm a woman? Doesn't seem to bother you that half the guys out here are naked or nearly so."

"Yes! Flaunting! You're practically fucking naked for the entire world to see!"

"Yeah, and the longer you stand here and argue with me, the longer I'm gonna be that way! Damn, George! I'm in the middle of a war, surrounded by men, and out of all of them, I chose you. I've been shot at, bombed, shelled, starved and frozen! And now, I have to jump in a boat and row across the river to go chasing Germans in the middle of the night on some suicide mission! And your big fucking worry is that a bunch of men who I would trust with my life might get a look at my panties? Give me a fucking break! Joe, hand me a clean uniform, please. I'm done here, and we have a briefing to get to."

I didn't give him a chance to respond, taking the fresh ODs from Joe's hands and walking down the street toward the OP still in my underwear. I was too pissed to care. I dressed and came back outside to find Joe leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette. I had calmed down a little bit, and I did feel bad for going off on George the way I had. His jealousy was a little flattering, even if the way he handled it made me angry. Joe gave me a sideways look.

"He's over at the CP sorting supplies."

"How'd you know?"

"I can read you like a book, sweetheart. You were right to put him in his place for the way he was talking to you, by the way. But I can tell you feel a little guilty. You two have been doing this dance since the day you met."

"What dance?" I asked, following him as he walked toward the building he had indicated George was in.

"One of you does or says something to rile the other one up. You act like you can't stand it but you keep coming back for more. Look, both of you have things you feel guilty about. Doesn't make the feelings any less real."

I didn't have a chance to ask him what he meant because we stepped through the door and George was standing there. He didn't look up as we came in, busy sorting candy and cigarettes with Vest as the guys begged for extras. Joe joined in, asking for a Hershey bar as George insisted that there weren't enough to go around.

"Aww c'mon loudmouth, give the kid a Hershey bar!" came a familiar voice and I turned to see Frank Perconte's smile lighting up the room.

He had a bit of a limp, but was in great spirits until we told him about the patrol. At the mention of it, George's eyes came up to meet mine, sliding his hand across the bar to touch my fingers as he mouthed a silent apology. He looked relieved when I smiled, and ran his finger across my palm before grabbing a box of supplies and heading off to go "blast a house."

Cobb was beside me as we left the building on our way to the briefing. He was actually a pretty decent guy when he hadn't been drinking, and he threw an arm around my shoulder.

"You as excited about this bullshit as I am?"

"Oh, you know it!"

"Saw you and George back there. You know, it's about time he apologized to you for that stupid fucking bet they made. When Webster told me what happened, I couldn't believe you didn't smack him in the mouth!"

"Over Webster betting George couldn't get me to like him? Nah. Not worth it." Roy froze and stared at me, and I realized he knew something more than what I knew. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Shit, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said anything. I though that's what y'all were fighting about at the showers earlier."

"Tell me, Roy."

"Sweetheart, there was a little more to the bet than George getting you to like him."

"Such as?"

"Well, um, apparently it came up on the boat ride over to England that Webster had you figured as a girl that he could smooth-talk the skirt off of, if you know what I mean. What with all his literature and College Boy crap. Did a bit of talking about it for a while. By Normandy, everybody was tired of hearing about it. Liebgott, Christianson, and Luz all told him he didn't have a prayer. Said you could have your pick of the regiment, and none of them thought you'd pick him. All four of them fancy themselves as the smoothest talker. So, after some big talking between them all, Webster proposed a bet the night before we got on the planes. Fifty bucks and a carton of smokes to the guy who was first to… well… talk you out of your skirt."


	6. Chapter 6

**** KATIE POV ****

I felt as though I'd just been gutted. Roy put his hand on my shoulder and kept telling me how sorry he was. That he was sure that it was just some stupid, macho bet. That he knew those guys and that they all cared about me. He looked genuinely devastated by my obvious distress, so I blinked back my tears.

"Roy, stop apologizing. It's not your fault. I'll be fine. Let's just go to the briefing."

When we stepped through the doorway, Joe was seated at the end of the table and Webster was standing behind him. I must have had venom in my stare because Webster's eyes grew wide and Joe moved to stand up and come toward me. Before any of us could speak, we were called to attention and Winters entered the room to instruct us on the mission. I didn't look at either of them again. When the briefing was over, I turned and walked outside without another word.

"Wait a minute, Katie! Oh, thank you sir," Joe was behind me, reaching for my arm as Spiers interrupted to tell him that he wouldn't be going on the patrol. He was behind me again quickly, but I didn't slow my stride. "Katie! Sweetheart, what is wrong?"

I stopped abruptly and turned, startling him, and answered, "What's wrong? Fifty bucks and a carton of fucking smokes, Joe." His confusion morphed into recognition at the words, and he started to sputter an explanation I didn't want to hear. "Stay the fuck away from me, Joe. And pass the word to Christianson and your buddy Webster. And especially to George fucking Luz."

Cobb wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me away as Joe nervously ran his fingers through his hair. Inside the OP that night, I sat in a corner and leaned into Roy, staring at the floor. I could feel Webster's eyes on me as he ate whatever Malarkey was pouring, and I looked up long enough to send daggers his way so that he would stop staring just Don came up in front of me.

"Thanks, Don. Not hungry."

"You need to eat, honey," he prodded. When that got no response, he knelt down in front of me, speaking quietly. "I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier, but I didn't think it mattered anymore. When Joe and Christianson realized that George was really falling for you…"

"Don. I love you. Really I do. But I don't want to hear that shit right now. I've never felt more cheap or betrayed in my life."

He saw the hurt in my eyes, swallowing hard and standing back up. "I understand, honey. But try not to focus on it tonight. You've got enough to worry about."

He was right. By the brass's standards, the patrol was a great success. We managed a couple of prisoners who talked under interrogation. By our standards, it was a waste. Jackson, eager to get inside and get it over with, ran into his own grenade blast. We got him back to our side of the river and into a basement where Doc could work on him. I pulled his bloodied head into my lap and tried to get him to focus on my voice.

"Eugene, sweetheart, you're going to be okay. It's not that bad. Remember Alley? He's right there. He got hit by a grenade and he's just fine, okay? But you have to calm down for me. Let Doc work on you."

He was just a baby. He lied about his age to join the paratroopers, and now he was panicking in my arms as Doc and I tried desperately to calm him so that we could move him somewhere where he could be better treated. He never made it off the floor of the basement. In his panic, he choked on his own blood and died right there in my arms. John Martin, who had been leading the patrol, covered him with a blanket, pulling me away and pushing me into Cobb's arms.

At dawn, we briefed Winters and walked back into the OP. Webster stayed out in front of me, careful to keep his distance. Joe lay on the top bunk, eyeing me warily as he smoked a cigarette. I heard Don mention the prisoners and Webster say that Jackson was dead. The room grew quiet again, and Don pulled out a bit of cloth and his canteen, taking my hands in his, intending to scrub them clean, just as George came up the stairs.

"Hey! You're okay! I heard about Jackson, baby, and I'm so…" He had moved to pull me into a hug, but was quickly warned off.

From his bunk, Joe said, "George, don't."

Don stepped in front of me, adding, "I really wouldn't do that right now if I were you."

George's face was a mixture of confusion and indignation as he demanded to know why he couldn't comfort me. I patted Don's shoulder and he moved aside so that I could face George.

"Sweetheart, what is going on? Are you okay?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and some French coins, pressing them into George's outstretched hands.

"At least now I understand why you were so worried about Joe seeing me in my underwear in the shower. Here. I guess you didn't technically win the bet since you didn't sleep with me, but you at least deserve something for the action at Rachamps. I mean, you were halfway there, right?"

He looked down at the pack, streaked with Jackson's blood from my dirty hands, and then back up at my watery eyes. Sudden realization flooded his face as he looked quickly around the room and then back at me.

"Oh my God. Who told you? Baby, please, it's not what you think. I…"

"Don, if you don't mind, I'm going to go scrub this blood off my hands."

"Yeah, honey. Go ahead. Cobb, please go with her," he instructed, moving so that we could pass. George made a move to follow and Don grabbed him by the arm. "You. Stay put. Now is not the time."


	7. Chapter 7

**** GEORGE POV ****

"I have to go after her, Don!"

"Not right now you don't. Leave her alone."

I looked around the room. Joe looked upset. Clearly she had already had words with him. Webster looked nervous. My eyes settled on him- the bastard who, as far as I was concerned, was responsible for everything. Would he have been low enough to tell her just to spite me?

"Who the fuck told her about that bet, Webster?"

"I don't know! All I know is that she was fine when we walked out of the CP, and when she and Cobb came walking into the briefing, she looked ready to kill me and Joe with her bare hands. It had to have been Cobb."

"You and your damned bet! You just couldn't shut the hell up about her! So hard for you to believe that she'd want the class clown over the smooth little college boy! I never should have let you get to me. I knew there was something there with me and her. I knew that she'd see right through you. But I let you get to me anyway. Let you make me jealous talking about her the way you were. Thinking about your slimy little Ivy League paws all over her. Why the fuck did I ever listen to you?"

"The real question, George," Don asked coolly, "is if you really care about her, why didn't you tell her about it before she found out somewhere else? Like after Webster almost put his foot in his mouth."

"I didn't think it mattered anymore! Shit, I forgot all about that stupid bet! Dammit, Webster, I oughta kick your ass!"

Don wasn't having any of my diversion of responsibility.

"Oh, come on, George! You had to know that if she found out about it she'd be upset! At least if she had heard it from you, she might've believed that it was all behind you. You, Joe and Pat could have all sat her down together and told her the truth. Explain that you made a stupid mistake because Webster was being obnoxious, and that you regretted ever even getting involved. But now she just thinks you didn't tell her because you hadn't gotten what you wanted yet."

There was a deep pit in my stomach. I had known when Webster said it that the bet was a stupid idea. Joe, Pat and I only agreed to it to shut him up, because the idea of him touching her or kissing her or… It made me want to punch something. My interest in her had been genuine from the beginning, and when I'd confided in Joe that I really did like her, he had encouraged me to go for it. Now, he just looked at me sadly.

"I'm sorry, George. Maybe when she cools off…"

"No. Don's right. She's never going to trust me now. Fuck!" I slammed my fist into the bunk nearest Webster, and he jumped.

"George, I didn't know you…" Webster started, and I turned a glare toward him that silenced him immediately.

"Shut up and stay the hell away from me." I felt like ice water had been injected into my veins. I had never wanted to hit someone so badly in my life. I wanted to take all of the anger I felt, both at him and myself, and take it out on his face. But that wouldn't have changed anything.

So, I did the only thing that I thought I could. I respected her wishes and stayed away. Joe came to me later to tell me that the second patrol wasn't going to happen, and that Cobb was gone after getting drunk and attacking a Lieutenant. Katie had lost another friend, and I didn't even get the chance to punch him for ratting us out. It was just one more thing for her to be upset about. At least she still had Don.

We moved on from Hagueneau, heading into Landsberg, Germany. She actively avoided us whenever possible, and when it wasn't, she just ignored us as best she could. We had no idea how to apologize. I sat there at Nixon's briefing, teasing a replacement and making jokes like everything was normal. Secretly, I was watching the back of her head, trying to see if she had even cracked a smile. I don't think she ever did. Joe just glanced over at me and shook his head, but I couldn't bring myself to give up trying.

Several times after we got to Landsberg, I tried to approach her, but I could never find the words. She'd get close enough for me to speak and I would clam up, allowing her to brush past me. I had lost my best friend.

It really hit home when we found the camp a few days later. I could see her face from where I stood, surrounded by death and pain. She was holding back tears, trying to help wherever she could. I wanted to comfort her. I wanted her to comfort me. Instead, we were together in hell again, but worlds apart this time.

We had gone to get food and bring it back, and she was doing her best to set up some kind of orderly distribution when the regimental surgeon told her that we couldn't keep feeding them. We had to lock them in the camp until we could find a place for them in town, to keep them from scattering and monitor their food intake while they were treated. It was necessary, but it was painful. When I saw that Joe had to translate the announcement to the German prisoners, looking out over the anguished faces of his own people, I knew that he would be devastated, but what happened next was utterly unexpected.

Maybe there was still hope.

* * *

 **** KATIE POV ****

I stood listening as Joe announced, in German, that these men were going to have to remain in the camp for the time-being. I had been nearby when he had translated for the officers earlier, and I knew that hearing that these men had been put in this condition because they were Jewish was a bitter pill for him to swallow. I couldn't imagine how he must have felt as he called out over the screams and cries now. I glanced up to where he stood in the back of the truck and, for the first time since Hagueneau, looked at his face.

He was a wreck. His eyes were wet with guilt and pain. His lip quivered as he spoke, choking on his words until, finally, his voice faltered completely. He sat down hard on the bench in the back of the truck, tears falling into his hands as he ran them over his face and tried to regain his composure. He hated to show weakness.

Suddenly, it no longer mattered that I was furious at him, or hurt by that idiotic bet. It was nothing compared to what he was feeling in that moment. I grabbed the tailgate of the truck and swung myself over the side, edging into the seat next to him and pulling him to me.

"What the hell?" he asked, clearly confused. "I thought you wanted me to stay away from…"

"None of that matters right now, Joe. I hate seeing you like this. I can't imagine how hard this is for you, and I'm so proud of you for making it through that. It's for the best, okay? They're safe now, and they're going to be taken care of."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And as for you, I want you to know that I'm here. Okay? Always."

He stared at me in disbelief, his lip quivering again, and then wrapped me in a crushing hug and sobbed quietly into my shoulder for a few minutes.

"God, I'm so sorry, Katie. For everything. We should have just told you. You should have never found out like that. But you have to know that, as stupid as it sounds, we were only doing it to shut Webster up. George told me at the very beginning that he really did like you. I promise you, by the time Webster showed back up, the rest of us had forgotten all about it. And I know you probably don't want to talk about this right now, but I'm just so glad you're here."

It seemed like everything just came rushing out of him in one long breath, and when he was finished, he heaved a sigh of relief, loosening his hold a bit and leaning back to look at me with glistening eyes.

"I forgive you, Joe. It's going to be okay."

"What about George?"

"I don't know. We'll figure it out. We always do."

The trucks prepared to take us back to town to rest before we moved out the following day, and I noticed George climbing in, studying Joe and I as if he were trying to decide if it was safe to sit down. I scooted over to make room for him and relief washed over his face. He reached over me to pat Joe on the leg.

"How you holding up, buddy?"

"I'm okay, George. Thanks." He shuddered, trying to avoid looking out at his surroundings. "Just ready to get the fuck out of here."

George nodded and leaned back, now meeting my gaze and saying, almost in a whisper, "We really need to talk."

"Let's all get cleaned up and get some rest tonight, okay? Then we can talk tomorrow. I promise."

"Deal."

* * *

 **** GEORGE POV ****

General Taylor declared martial law and required the residents of the town to begin cleanup of that God-forsaken camp and bury all of the bodies. We were ordered to Thalem, set to leave at noon the following day and grateful to be leaving the horror of Landsberg behind us. I think we all scrubbed our skin raw in the showers that evening, trying to escape the smell and the filth, but none of us could get rid of the mental images.

When I returned to our OP after my shower, I found Katie alone in a small private room the guys had found for her. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and she was straightening her blanket, and I wanted nothing more than to be close to her in that moment. I decided to push my luck.

She froze when I came up behind her, sliding my arms around her waist, but she didn't move away from me. I put my chin on her shoulder, breathing in her clean scent. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded weary and tinged with annoyance.

"What are you doing, George?"

"I'm sorry. I know you said we could talk tomorrow, but it's been a rough day. I saw you standing there, and I just needed to hug you for a minute."

I felt her relax a little bit, and she turned to face me, wrapping her arms around my neck and burying her face into my bare chest where I'd let my shirt hang open. I pulled her body into mine, almost squeezing the breath out of her, and we stood there for a long time just holding each other.

"You realize that this doesn't get you off the hook, right?" she asked, but her voice held no anger, so I chuckled.

"I know, kiddo. I know."

"Tell me the truth, George," she said cautiously, as though she wasn't sure she really wanted to hear it. I wasn't sure what to say, or what truth she was asking for. I hesitated, but when she started to move away from me, I held her close and just started talking.

"I swear to you that the three of us never gave a damn about that bet. We knew that you'd never give Webster the time of day, especially when he tried to pour on the charm, so we only did it to shut him up. My feelings were real. Are real. They always have been. I care about you, and I should have told you about this stupid shit a long time ago so that you would never have had a reason to doubt that. And there's no reason why you should believe me now, but I hope you will because I hate this distance between us. I hate that we don't play or fight anymore. I hate that I can't touch you. It killed me that I couldn't hold you after Jackson died or when we were at the camp today. I don't want it to stay like this. I want you beside me. Here. In Japan. At home. Wherever we go. I'm just… sorry. I'm so damn sorry."

She let me finish my rambling apology and leaned silently into my chest for a while without speaking. I think I was holding my breath, waiting for her reaction. Finally, she leaned away and looked up at me.

"I don't want to wonder every time you touch me if you are doing it for the right reasons."

"I love you. Is that a good enough reason?"


	8. Chapter 8

****KATIE POV****

"What did you just say?"

"Come on, Katie. You heard me," he answered sheepishly, looking down at the floor.

I pushed back away from him. I could feel my eyes welling up, and tried to choke back the lump in my throat. I wanted to believe him. He sounded so sincere. But there was still that little part of me that wondered. That was still angry with him for not telling me. Of all the ways I'd imagined hearing those words for the first time, this wasn't it. I was prepared for an apology, but not for an "I love you."

"I don't really think I did. I couldn't have. George, don't say things you don't mean just to get me to forgive you."

He caught me firmly around the wrist as I pushed against his chest, using his other hand to grip my chin. Well, he could control my face but he couldn't control my eyes. I stubbornly searched the wall behind him for something, anything to stare at but his muscular chest underneath my hands. He let out an exasperated sigh.

"Look at me. I'm not just…" And then, more forcefully, "Dammit, Katie, look at me! I'm trying to tell you something!"

"What?"

He ground his teeth and narrowed his eyes at my dismissive attitude. For a second, I thought they were going to burn through me, but I held his angry stare with one of my own. His grip on my wrist relaxed. Then he smirked and dropped it completely, turning to walk away from me.

"Never fucking mind."

I released a slow breath and turned back to fixing my blanket, muttering, "Yeah, that's what I figured."

I didn't have time to think about what happened next. The door to my room slammed behind me, and George spun me back into his arms, crushing his lips to mine. His right arm wrapped around my waist, pulling my body flush with his and leaning me back so that I was almost swept off my feet. I could do nothing but wrap my arms around his neck to hold myself up as his left hand fisted in my hair, tugging until I gasped. He didn't wait for me to kiss him back. He demanded it, pulling the breath from my lungs as his tongue ran across my own.

I felt him moving forward and releasing me just as the backs of my knees hit the edge of my bunk, forcing me to sit down. He never took his eyes from mine as he shrugged his already-open shirt off, and I was too mesmerized to form a protest as he met my lips again, laying me back across the bed. I could see the muscles in his arms as he held his upper body over mine. His shoulders rippled under my fingertips. One hand slipped to my waist, running along the naked skin where my shirt had ridden up, as his mouth trailed down my jaw, nipping at my earlobe on his way to my neck. His fingers trailed up my ribs, thumb running across my breast. By the time he left the small purplish mark on the sensitive spot above my collarbone, I almost couldn't breathe.

"What about this? Can you hear this?" he demanded, pulling my shirt completely over my head so that he could replace his hands with his mouth. "I love you, baby. I want to be with you. I want to touch you, and kiss you, and make love to you. And it's not because of some stupid fucking bet, or because I'm trying to get you to forgive me. I love you. I have for a long time."

"I don't know what you want me to say, George. I don't know if I can just forget what happened. We shouldn't even be doing this. We could get in trouble for fraternizing and…" I had tears in my eyes now, and he looked down at me.

"Say you love me too," he interrupted. His voice was quiet, but his eyes were pleading and I simply could not deny him.

"I love you too."

"Good. Now tell me that you want to be with me."

"But George, we…"

"Just say it. Stop worrying and say it," he ordered, kneeling above me and running his fingers down my thigh toward my shorts, waiting for me to say the words before he slid them off of my body.

"I want to be with you."

* * *

 **** GEORGE POV ****

The cold metal of my dog tags brushed across her bare skin and she shivered as my body settled across hers. I pulled the blanket up around us, watching her eyes carefully, waiting for her to stop me. Those eyes were hazy now, bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she slid her fingernails through the hair at the base of my neck. Saying the words out loud had erased her protests. She wanted this. She wanted me.

She pulled me down to her lips again, and I returned the kiss hungrily. My lower body rested against hers and she wrapped her legs around my waist to pull me closer. I shifted my hips into hers and we both groaned at the contact. I was absolutely aching for her, and I ripped my mouth from hers so that I could try to catch my breath.

"Oh my God, Katie, I want you," I whispered against her ear, and I meant it in so many ways.

It didn't really matter that we weren't supposed to be fraternizing. I didn't care anymore that Webster thought he could steal her away from me. I ignored the voice of my naïve younger self saying that I would play the field, and probably wouldn't find a wife until I was much older.

I wanted her. I wanted to marry her. I wanted to buy a house and throw backyard barbecues for all of our Easy Company buddies. I wanted babies. Lots of them. I wanted her here and now, in this bunk, in the middle of a European war zone. I wanted to make love to her every day for the rest of forever.

I breathed in her scent, clean and feminine, hair still damp from the shower, and tried to calm myself. I didn't want to push her further than she really wanted to go. Her hand found my cheek, turning my face into hers and brushing our noses in an Eskimo kiss before drawing my mouth back to hers. The kiss was slow, full of all of the unspoken words from the last two years. Her fingers slid across my shoulders, lightly grazing my back and leaving goosebumps in their wake as she pushed my trousers over my hips and continued the journey across my skin.

"I want you too, George."

"Baby, are you sure? We don't have to…"

"Shh," was her only reply as she kissed me again. She had already made up her mind.

I watched her face for a moment, studying her eyes until I was sure she knew what she was asking for. They fluttered closed when I moved, joining our bodies for the first time. She tensed a bit at first, anticipating the pain, and I stilled, brushing my lips across her eyelids.

"Trust me, baby. I promise I'll take care of you."

Her body relaxed and I began, slowly, to move again. With her mouth against my ear, I could hear the moment when the deep breaths that signified her discomfort became soft moans of pleasure. We responded to each new sensation without having to think about it, no longer tentative in our movements, but grasping and touching and kissing every part of each other that we could reach. I stopped worrying about being gentle, pouring all of our accumulated sexual tension into every shift and thrust, relishing the feel of her fingernails digging into my shoulder blades.

We were both nearing the edge, a blur of lips and skin and heat, glistening with sweat and slipping easily against each other's bodies. I could feel her body responding, muscles clenching around me as I moved, and I kissed her to muffle the sounds of our shared release as the pleasure came crashing down around us.

Her body finally stilling in my arms, she put her hands behind my neck and pulled me into another soft kiss before snuggling into my chest.

"I forgive you for everything, George. And I do trust you. Completely."

"Let's never do that again, okay? Not talking to you was Hell."

"I missed you too, George."

"You know you're not going to be able to avoid me like that when we're married."

I felt rather than saw her smile, and she pressed a kiss to my chest.

"Yeah, I know."


	9. Chapter 9

**WRAPPING THIS ONE UP, WONDERFUL PEOPLE! IT'S BEEN FUN, BUT I DON'T WANT TO FORCE IT AND THIS FELT LIKE A GOOD NOTE TO END IT ON. STAY TUNED TO MY OTHER STORIES, AND MY PM BOX IS ALWAYS OPEN FOR REQUESTS, STORY IDEAS, ETC. - I'VE GOT SOME OTHER STORIES IN THE WORKS THAT I HAVEN'T PUBLISHED YET, SO STAY TUNED FOR THOSE AS WELL!**

* * *

 **** KATIE POV ****

"Come on, baby. Wake up. We're moving out again today." Reluctantly, I cracked my eyes open and looked up as George pushed a piece of hair back from my face. "Good morning, beautiful."

I smiled contentedly, stretching against the delicious soreness in my body before sliding out of the bed. George sucked in a breath behind me and I realized that I was still naked. Unashamed, I pretended not to notice him staring as I brushed my teeth and hair. When I walked back by the bed, he caught my wrist and pulled me back to him, giving me a kiss that would have knocked my socks off if I had been wearing any.

A knock at the door startled us both, ruining the tender moment, and Perco's voice came from the other side.

"Hey, Katie, you up? We're getting everything ready to move out, and no one has seen George since last night. I'm kinda worried."

I stifled a laugh and called out, "Yeah, Frank. He's okay. He came in here to talk things out last night and we fell asleep. We'll be out in a second." Then, quietly, to George, "We have to get dressed."

"No," he pouted.

"Fine, but that means that all the guys really will see me naked this time."

His eyes narrowed, but he finally sighed and allowed me to move. Reluctantly, we dressed and made ourselves presentable before moving toward the door to join the rest of the guys.

"When we get home and get married, I'm demanding that we have some days built in where we do nothing all day but cuddle up naked in bed together. Deal?"

I turned and slid my hands behind his neck, pulling him into me. He didn't hesitate. His arms went immediately around my waist as he caught my lips in another passion-filled kiss. Finally breathless, we pulled away and I winked at him.

"Deal."

* * *

 **** GEORGE POV ****

I released her again with a smile and a whisper of, "Damn, I love you."

"I love you too," she answered, pressing one last, quick peck on my lips before turning and opening the door to reveal the grinning face of Frank Perconte.

He leaned against the doorframe, appraising us as we walked out of the room, and I did everything I could to keep a straight, passive look on my face. He wasn't having any of it.

"You look nice this morning, Katie. Refreshed even. There's a certain glow about you. What do you think, Joe? Doesn't she have a glow this morning?"

"Yeah, you know, now that you mention it there is something different about her," Joe answered, walking up beside Frank with his arms crossed and a knowing smile on his face. "But it could just be that deep blush taking over her cheeks right now. What are you blushing for, Katie?"

"I'm not. We need to get our shit together so that we can get out of here." She tried to change the subject, but Joe threw an arm around my shoulder.

"Mornin', Joe."

"You sleep good last night, George?"

"Best I've slept in three years, Joe. Thank you for asking."

"You're glowing too."

"Yes, I sure am. If you were me, you'd be glowing too."

Joe grinned at Katie's ever-widening eyes and looked back at me.

"And why is that, George?"

"Well, because I got to make…"

"George!" she interrupted quickly, her blush getting impossibly deeper.

Now the whole room was interested in hearing why I was in such a good mood, and we had a semi-circle around us, waiting for an explanation. Joe was incredibly pleased with himself and I couldn't stop smiling, but Katie looked like she was going to shoot daggers out of her eyes. Everyone looked at us expectantly, but when no confessions were forthcoming, Webster finally broke the silence.

"What's going on over here?"

She paused a beat to glare at me, but no dirty look could wipe the genuine happiness off of my face. She might be irritated, but she was beautiful and she was mine, and I was so full of love in that moment, I just couldn't pretend like nothing had happened the night before. Everything had happened. My whole world had shifted. Staring into my eyes, she must have seen it too because after a moment, she allowed a slow smile to spread across her own face. Joe and Frank sensed it, and their own smiles widened as they waited on confirmation. At last, she turned toward Webster.

"Well, Web, what's going on is that apparently, George and I are glowing this morning," she answered tartly, pausing to wink at Joe before continuing. "And you owe George 50 bucks and a carton of smokes. Consider it an early wedding present."

Webster looked dumbfounded. Joe, Frank and I started laughing. The rest of the room broke out into cheers and applause. There were a few choruses of "it's about fucking time" and "way to go, Luz." Someone reminded everyone to keep it quiet in front of the brass.

I pulled my girl into my arms and kissed her for the whole room to see, and the catcalls broke out again so she smacked me in the arm.

"Abusing me already, Mrs. Luz?" I teased, and she pecked me on the lips again.

"But you love me, Mr. Luz," she answered quietly, flashing a radiant smile that was just for me.

"You're damned right I do, baby."


End file.
